Page 17 of Still Afraid

Before long, CJ had been carefully laid in the rescue basket and was being lifted off the ground. Her gaze followed him up into the bright blue sky.

Despite the shaking of her heart, she prayed he would live.

Poirot bolted around Josh’s legs as soon as he opened the front door when they arrived at his house around eight that evening. Josh laughed at the dog’s antics.

But Chloe didn’t laugh. She was beyond exhausted. More stoic than normal, withdrawn even. She was rarely like this with him anymore, but the last thirty-six hours had taken their toll. He felt it too, but it was by far hitting her harder.

They dropped their packs in the front hall.

Chloe walked straight to the couch and dropped face-first into the cushions.

He followed her and bent down to kiss her temple. “I’ll find us some food.” In the kitchen, he turned the oven on to preheat.

He had planned on taking her straight to her house when they left the search site an hour ago, but then thought better. She needed to eat, and he wasn’t sure she’d do that without him making sure she did, especially since he knew her kitchen was running low on food. With only two weeks left until she officially moved in, there wasn’t much point in making sure her shelves were well-stocked.

After CJ had been airlifted out of the woods, they had gone back across the river and found the trail of the other missing person. Thankfully, they had located her without any craziness. She had been hiking and ran when she saw the tornado coming. After taking shelter in an abandoned shack, a tree had fallen in front of the door, trapping her inside. She was tired and hungry but unscathed.

They’d assisted in the search for a little longer, but by six-thirty all missing persons had been accounted for. The tornado’s path had become a clean-up zone instead of a search-and-rescue one.

As he took a pizza from the freezer and popped it in the oven, he prayed for all the families affected by the tornado.

After setting the timer, he wandered back into the living room. He expected to find Poirot snuggled on the couch with Chloe—married life would prove to be interesting with that clingy dog around—but he wasn’t there.

“Poirot?” Josh glanced around. Poirot sat in front of the antique secretary where they’d tossed their bags.

Chloe lifted her head. “Where is he?”

“Sitting in the front hall.”

“Weirdo. Come, Poirot.”

He ran to her, then darted back to the entryway and sat at attention.

Chloe pushed herself up to a sitting position.

“What is your deal, boy?” Josh walked over to the dog.

Poirot barked.

“Sorry, I don’t speak lab.” Josh raised his palms to the ceiling and shrugged.

Poirot barked again and nosed Chloe’s bag.

“Oh, the journal.” She jumped up and scurried to her pack. She dug out a couple of zippered pouches and other items before removing a leather-bound book with a leather strap wrapping around it. “I found this journal yesterday. It seemed so valuable I didn’t want it getting lost in the shuffle.”

They sat on the couch, and she handed the journal to Josh.

The mahogany leather was soft and smooth. He unwrapped the strap. “Did you look inside?”

“Not too closely, but I glanced in to see if it was used.”

Josh turned back the cover. The front pages didn’t have a name or other identifying information. He flipped through without reading, letting the words remain a mystery. He didn’t want to invade someone’s privacy more than necessary.

“I figured I’d post it online and try to find the owner.”

“I’d have done the same. I have a feeling the owner will really want this.”

“I know I would.”